Socks
by Lia Harkness
Summary: A short Father's Day story. Begins a few weeks after Coda as Janeway struggles to move on again.


For my Daddy, who was a secret Trekkie and I never knew.

**Author's Note**: This story goes purely on what we learn from the onscreen episodes, so it does not follow the books, such as Mosaic. If you are particularly precious about them... don't comment on how this is different. I am aware that it is.

A very big thank you to my lovely beta, Mrs Singing Violin, for putting up with me and numerous drafts. This story would not be nearly as effective as it is without her patience and prompting.

* * *

"Computer: lock doors, no interruptions."

Third Sunday in June. Father's Day. Stranded on the opposite side of the galaxy, Kathryn dug out a pair of old socks, decorated with a chevron in shades of lurid orange, and cried.

_Socks. It had started as a joke her mother had played just after she was born – a baby could never choose a Father's Day gift at a few weeks old – but it had grown into a tradition. Each year, Kathryn Janeway would go with her mother and choose the wackiest, most outrageous pair of socks in the department store. And then, the following Monday morning, Admiral Edward Janeway would go to work proudly wearing said socks with his crisp, Starfleet uniform._

She had never had the chance to give this pair to him; Tau Ceti Prime had snatched that away from her. She had always been close to her father, and the day she lost him had been the worst day of her life. She remembered the cold, and the sudden realisation that her father was gone.

_"__Daddy, no, please, you can't leave me!" Struggling to stay above water herself, Kathryn thrashed out, desperate to pull her father back to the surface where a thin layer of air still sat. She caught his arm and hauled him upwards._

_ "__The beacon's set, Daddy; they're coming, just hold on." She felt the tingle of the transporter as it took control of them. As they materialised, she turned her father towards her, only to be met with the sight of his blue tinged lips and glazed stare. She remembered screaming, then nothing but black._

She missed him, more so now that she was separated from her family and friends: every support network that she'd ever had was lost on the other side of the galaxy. Crawling to curl in the middle of her bed, Kathryn thought back to her shock of seeing him – or rather, a facsimile thereof – just a few weeks ago. She desperately tried to remind herself that it was the alien life form trying to trick her into its matrix, but to her it had felt as real as if he had never left. She remembered his voice, his smile, clearer again than they had been for over ten years. As another sob racked through her body, she stumbled across a realisation.

She wanted a hug.

She wanted the warm arms of her father to embrace her, his hands patting her back and stroking her hair, soothing her tears as he had when she was small. The arms that held her when the nightmares came, when they had lost the family dog, when someone had broken her heart. She missed those same arms that had congratulated her on her first commission, wishing they had been present for each of her subsequent postings. The same arms that had danced with her, lifted her in the air and received her first salute.

_"__I hear that someone has been accepted into the Academy." A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she whirled round to meet the face of her father. The admiral had just returned from a diplomatic mission, but while he looked worn underneath, his facade was bubbling with pride._

_"__Who told you that?" She raised her eyebrow, awarding him a crooked smile as she pulled away from his hug._

_"__Your mother." The two of them laughed, and he murmured softly, stroking her cheek. "Make me proud, my little bird." _

_"__Aye, Sir." Snapping to attention, she lifted her right arm into a salute. Her father, grinning from ear-to-ear, returned the gesture._

She missed his voice, his words of wisdom. Having it so fresh in her mind was not helpful; it triggered all of his old sayings to run through her head: his nicknames for her, his soft words of endearment, even the times they had argued.

Every aspect of his memory was pulled to the front of her mind: the twinkle in his eye as he informed them of their next camping trip, his laugh at the vivid look of disgust on her face at the prospect, the far-off voice he used as he described the stars, and how he oozed pride for both of his daughters on so many occasions.

She knew he would hate to see her like this: he would hate to think that she was so alone. His words rolled over her again; they had originally been used as she fretted over the results of her admissions exams, but they came back to her now, firm, in the same admiral's tone that they had first been said.

"_If you can't do anything about it, stop worrying. If you can do something about it, go do it."_

She couldn't do anything about being stuck in the Delta Quadrant, and with Starfleet Protocols, she couldn't do anything about being alone either. With a soft moan, she drew herself into a tighter ball, tucking her head away from her responsibilities as captain.

Wave after wave of emotions bombarded her, flooding her consciousness with memories, happy and sad, but all painful. Clutching the two small pieces of clothing to her chest, Kathryn resigned herself to the fact that she was unlikely to ever have her own child to teach this tradition. It had died with him.

* * *

_Socks. It had started as a joke her mother had played just after she was born – a baby could never choose a Father's Day gift at a few weeks old – but it had grown into a tradition. _

"Open it, Daddy!" Kathryn Janeway leant against the door frame, stifling a laugh as their small daughter woke her father, brandishing a poorly wrapped package under his nose.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart." Watching the two of them, Kathryn folded her arms and smiled at the pair of dimpled faces before her, one weathered with dark, inked lines across his brow, the other bright and full of innocence.

_"__Do you want to talk about yesterday?" Chakotay had stopped by her quarters before bridge duty, and she'd found that she couldn't turn him away. He'd tried to approach her the previous morning, but she'd batted him off bluntly. Standing in the doorway to her bedroom now, as she fussed around, his expression held nothing but concern, and it unsettled her._

_"__No." There was that bluntness again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sigh as he locked his hands behind his back and leaned against the frame._

_"__Well, you'll have to eventually. I don't know about your father, but mine was very into being open and sharing one's feelings."_

_"__How did you know?" She approached the dresser and opened the top drawer, but whirled around to confront him. _

_"__About Father's Day? Does it matter?" He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the two orange items she had begun to fold away. "What are they?"_

_"__Socks, Commander. If you can't recognise that, perhaps we should send you to lessons with Naomi." His silence made her uneasy, and she knew that if she faced him again she'd struggle with tears. But she couldn't leave him without a valid explanation. Instead she ran her free hand across the surface of the dresser absently, allowing her voice to waver slightly._

_"__I always gave Daddy socks. But I never got the chance to give him these." Turning them over in her hands her voice changed from longing to bitterness. "It's cruel, though. He made me promise I'd pass along the tradition. And I can't."_

_"__Can't or won't?" She couldn't place his tone. It was soft, intended to comfort, but challenged her, daring, yet it also promised hope. Her father's voice came back to her again._

_'__If you can do something about it, go do it.'_

_Still damaged from the night before, she allowed the barriers on her emotions to falter again, but this time, new images flooded her mind: images of a possible future, of small children with soft dark hair and copper skin, and more brightly-coloured socks. All it would take would be to let him in._

_And she could do something about that._

Catching her gaze, Chakotay winked at her as he hauled himself to an upright position, and manoeuvred the toddler to sit in his lap. Accepting the present, he carefully pulled the paper off to reveal a pair of brightly-coloured socks. Kissing his daughter on the forehead, he chuckled. "Pinstripe, blue and green. Your mother's idea?"

"Actually, I wanted the polka dots." Kathryn climbed back into bed and pulled the child between them.

_"__So, he wanted you to have a child, so that they could give their father socks?" He watched her as she smoothed the two pieces of orange fabric over her knees again, this year talking through her pain instead of allowing her to bottle it. She nodded slowly, a slight laugh catching in the back of her throat._

_"__Or rather, I'd force them to give you socks." She froze, realising what she had just said. Her mind began backtracking, and she glanced across at him in panic._

_"__Me?" He breathed it softly, a smile lighting his entire face as he pulled her closer. Tentatively, she returned the smile, before leaning in to kiss him. Pulling away slightly, she sighed, resting her forehead against his._

_"__One day, perhaps. But not until captaining a starship becomes less... hazardous."_

_"__Well, I'm sure as first officer I can work something out."_

"No you didn't!" The two of them laughed as they were pulled from their reverie, their indignant child squirming between them, discontented at being forced to sit still. Eventually she wriggled from their grasp and crawled to the end of the bed. Chakotay sighed and gazed down as his wife laid her head on his chest. He ran a hand down her side before resting it on her swollen stomach.

"Does this mean I get two pairs of socks next year?" Her soft laugh mingled with his as they lay there, watching their daughter, Kathryn's hands absently stroking the fabric of the socks that still rested on his chest, his fingers stroking soothing circles against her skin.

"Daddy, why is Mummy crying?" The small, worried voice brought him back, and Chakotay lifted Kathryn's chin to meet her eyes. There were tears, but he recognised them.

"She's happy, sweetie." Confused, the little girl edged her way back up to them, placing a hand on Kathryn's cheek.

"Then why are you crying?" she insisted.

"Your mother cries when she's happy too." And it was true. Whenever Kathryn allowed her emotions to overwhelm her, to override the captain, be it happy or sad, she cried. Just like that night, years ago, when she had cried for her father, she cried each year thereafter, but every year going forward, he had held her. She had cried for every lost crewmember, each anniversary of her stranding them there, every time an away mission left Chakotay wounded in sickbay. But she had also cried, differently, when they kissed for the first time, and after he asked her to marry him.

_"__You know, if I were your husband, I could force you to go to sickbay." He was stood at the threshold of her ready room, the past chaos of the bridge dying out behind him. The attack had lasted a few hours, culminating in a few close calls, and the horrifying moment as he'd pulled her away from a falling bulkhead, holding her close to him, willing it to be over so that they could be safe again. Despite his efforts, a nasty red gash had developed on her forehead._

_"__Chakotay, you can do that anyway," she sighed softly, rounding the corner of her desk. He shook his head to stop her and took another step into the room._

_"__And you've just shot yourself in the foot. If you're going to argue that it'll change things, it won't. I'd still have done the same things on that bridge as I did today; nothing's going to change that. If you push me away, I will still love you. I will act the same way, I can't help it. You have that power over me." Another step and he was in reach, extending a hopeful hand, grateful when she grasped it. "The crew are more than willing to accept it, and Starfleet will have to accept it. They'll know no differently. Who's to blame us for trying to be happy? Nothing will change how we feel, Kathryn. So what's holding us back?" He took another step, a mischievous smile lighting his features. "Eventually, I could even get a decent pair of socks out of this." One final step and he was standing in front of her, gazing down into her eyes, which were glazed with tears. He could see he was winning. "Kathryn Janeway, will you marry me?"_

_"__Yes," she nodded, crying unashamedly as she kissed him._

Married life on a starship had been hard, especially maintaining the command structure that was necessary. She hated sending him away on dangerous missions, and he did her. But the structure remained, in the same loose manner it had before. In turn, they earned their reward, getting their people home, and starting their lives anew.

_"__Right, that's it, I'm taking you to see the Doctor." As she emerged from the bathroom, she found him dressed, arms folded and glaring at her. She sighed and shook her head._

_"You're meant to be sleeping, you had a rough debriefing yesterday. You were late back," he ignored her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he tried to steer her towards the door, but was thwarted as she ducked out of it. Resting a hand on his cheek, she tilted his face to look him squarely in the eyes. "Chakotay, I'm fine."_

_He wasn't buying it._

_"__You've been sick every morning for the past week, Kathryn. That's far too long for it to just be you adjusting to gravity again. You are not fine."_

_"__Yes, I am." Holding up a hand to prevent him from arguing, she moved closer to him before continuing. "I saw the Doctor last night, but I fell asleep waiting for you." Taking his hands into hers, she hesitantly placed them at her waist. Not breaking eye contact, she whispered, "Chakotay, I'm pregnant."_

"But that makes no sense." The little girl huffed in front of them and folded her arms, a stance she had adopted from her mother. It was precious, and Chakotay reached to fold her into his chest again: his two favourite girls, one in each arm.

"When does anything your mother do make sense?"

_On the third Sunday in June, two weeks after their daughter was born, Chakotay had awoken to a small wrapped parcel, containing a pair of socks, with a familiar chevron in shades of lurid orange, a small promise for the future._


End file.
